


A Second Chance

by verdant_calamity



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: A Lil Bit of Everything tbh, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Fuck Forsaken, Ill update the tags when we get there, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Power couple dynamic, Ramen, Slow Burn, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-10-26 12:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdant_calamity/pseuds/verdant_calamity
Summary: The Young Wolf gets a second chance, and she isn’t about to waste it. Because fuck Forsaken.





	1. Keep of Voices (Alternatively: How Bad Of An Idea Can Following A Disembodied Voice Be?)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time writing a Cayde fic and writing for AO3!! Female-gendered Guardian, but there’s a chance I’ll make another version for a gender-neutral guardian. Hope y’all enjoy!

_’The line between Light and Dark is so very thin.'_

The Guardian turned over in her bed. Uldren's last words had echoed in her head for a week now. They kept her up at night and distracted her during the day. Over and over, she asked herself the question:_ 'Do you know which side you're on?'_

She huffed, shifting once more to stare up at the ceiling. Hours of restlessness had her on edge, to say the least. Nothing helped. She turned over to smush her face in the pillow and groan quietly. Maybe if Ghost just didn't revive her for a few hours she'd come back well-rested..?

"Absolutely not." Her Ghost dismissed the idea in a heartbeat from his next of scarves and capes by her bed. 

She scooted over to glare at him weakly. "It's not the worst idea I've had." The Hunter argued, feeling just a tiny bit defensive. 

He rolled his eye. "It's certainly not your best. You know what happens when Guardians go too long withou—" 

"I got it," She waved him off. "I don't need another lecture." 

Her Ghost got up with a huff. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hissed at the chilly floor on her bare feet. Ghost snickered, so she shot him another withering look for good measure.

He floated out of the room looking entirely unfazed while she got up. "You know," he called from... the kitchen, if her ears didn't deceive, "you could ask Ikora or Zavala about what Uldren said. They might have some useful insight."

With a soft grunt, she slid on her first boot, then her second. "Or you could continue to bottle up your residual grief and anger," Ghost muttered under his breath. 

"I heard that!" She called out, frowning as she donned her cloak. He was right — not about Ikora and Zavala, but about talking to someone. _But who?_

The answer came to her as she was rifling through the weekly bounties at the Tower. 

She turned to her Ghost, wearing that grin that had him nervous. "Petra!" 

"What about her?" Ghost asked, following her excited gaze down to the bounties she was selecting. There were about twenty (20) there, all for the Dreaming City.

She looked back at him, already bouncing with restless energy. "I'll go talk to Petra. She was there when I—" she cut herself off, casting a glance to her surroundings. "...When Uldren died." It was still a hotly debated subject: whether a Guardian had murdered the Prince of the Awoken, or the Queen’s Wrath.

The Ghost looked at her with skepticism written in bold letters all over his (metaphorical) face. "...If you think it's a good idea, I guess we can go."

The Guardian smiled, petting the top of his fins as she backpedalled toward the railing. "Prep for transmat then, buddy."

He quirked a paddle at her. "...What are you doing?"

She jumped on the railing with a smirk. "Taking a trip down to the City. Catch me!" And then she jumped off.

Ghost stared down at her as she fell, sighing. A tiny, mischievous part of him wanted to let her fall to teach her a lesson about using him as a bungie cord. The other, larger part knew she'd call him ‘Little Light’ for a week to tease him, so he transmatted her to her ship and joined, grumbling. (She made it up to him with a new cat shell.)

After a quick half-hour nap on the way to the Reef, soothed by the rocking of the ship and the engine's humming, she felt better. Kinda. She was struggling with the moral ramifications of killing Uldren to avenge Cayde, the slow corruption of her Light, and the grief she hadn't even started to address, but! She munched on a granola bar in orbit, so that was nice.

Of course, her break couldn't last.

The instant her boots touched crystal, the whispering began. It was faint and incomprehensible, and sent unpleasant shivers down her spine. "You hearing what I'm hearing?" She asked, keeping her voice even while she scanned the distance.

Her Ghost appeared at her hand and looked up at her. "I—what? What are you talking about?"

She looked down at him, frowning. "The whispers, the...voices. You can't hear that?"

"Uh, no. Maybe we should ask about some sedatives for you." He suggested half to himself, making a note. 

She pursed her lips and sent him back into his hiding spot without a word. Either he was pulling on her leg, or she was going insane. Guess the only way to find out is to follow the voices, she supposed. _Petra can wait a bit. _

It took a while of walking around, listening to the murmurs get louder or softer, until she stood in front of a crystalline doorway like the dozens of others in the Dreaming City. This was the right way, she could feel it in the way the voices got... excited as soon as she stepped inside. So she pulled out her gun, and went into the dark.

The halls were normal, and perfectly the same as every other twisting corridor she'd passed through. She let the whispering guide her, trusting herself to be able to fight her way out of any mess she got into. They hadn't encountered a single Taken, not one Hive, or even one of Petra's corsairs. That screamed ambush — that, and she was following the direction of a disembodied voice. Those were very rarely friendly. Or honest. 

She turned one more corner and stopped short while her stomach sank to the floor. She was standing in the room. THE room. The one where she defeated the Voice of Riven, and then...

Without thinking, she walked over to the steps where Uldren had died barely a week ago. The Ace of Spades was heavy in her hand. 

The marble had already forgotten Uldren's blood. She swallowed a lump in her throat._ Just breathe._ She saw his face — not Uldren's, Cayde's — and the whispers filled her head, a thousand voices overlapping.

_"Poor creature, you have endured such misery. Such suffering." _

Her chest felt too tight, like an ogre was pressing her into the ground. Her heart thudded in her ears. _Can't breathe._

_"Let me help you, little light-born. Let me ease your pain."_

The grip on Ace groaned under her white-knuckled grip. She stared at the ground, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. _Can't breathe._

"...Guardian?" A voice, faint but laced with worry, reached her. It sounded like it was underwater, or maybe she was.

Her gaze snapped to her Ghost, but her mind was three months, a two weeks and six days away. The gunshot rang clearly in her ears — her blood still froze when she remembered Uldren, standing above Cayde with that smirk. She was too late. He couldn’t breathe, he was choking on his own _blood_ — 

"Guardian!" 

She blinked and took a step back, shaking her head. "I... sorry, Ghost." She tried for a smile and fell about a mile short of convincing. "I was just thinking about..." her eyes fell to the gun in her hands. She sighed. 

"It wasn't your fault." He said softly, nudging her cheek. 

She shook her head again, trying to rid herself of the memories. "Doesn't matter. We have bigger fish."

"Right! The voices only you can hear!" Her Ghost perked up, glancing around the chamber. 

She chortled quietly, but followed his gaze. Taken corruption still polluted the place, filling her nose with ozone and darkening the room. It was always a few degrees cooler where the blight was, she'd observed. Eventually, she spoke. "The whispers... they want me to go deeper. This isn't the right place, just a stop."

Ghost looked back at her, a fin quirked up. "You got all that from a bunch of mindless murmuring?"

She shrugged. "I can feel it. I'm surprised you can't, actually."

"Me too." They both fell quiet after that, wondering what that meant for them, exactly.

She didn't say anything else as she let the whispers lead her through the maze of rooms filled with Awoken curios and Taken blights, hallways made of carved crystal, and huge chambers that stretched out into the shadows. Even stranger, they still didn't find a single enemy. That made her nervous. 

The two of them stopped at the edge of a chasm after what felt like at least two hours. She winced, rubbing her temples to assuage a dull ache there. _Ow._ The voices were pressing against her skull now, almost tangibly excited that she was getting closer to whatever awaited her. 

The overwhelming scent of ozone didn't help much.

She bit her lip, sizing up the gap. _Not too far. I can probably jump it,_ she thought. 

Her Ghost turned to look at her. "Hold on, lets think about this first."

"What's there to think about, exactly?" She asked him, settling her weight on one hip and resting her hand there. But still, she waited to hear what he had to say. Her attention flicked to the pools of starlight lining the walls and ceiling.

He floated forward to inspect whatever waited at the bottom of the chasm. As he turned back to her, he raised his fins. "This is definitely a trap. The sterile neutrino count is incredibly high, which means you are about to be ambushed by a nest of Taken."

"And?"

"And you have no fireteam."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not calling in my self-appointed babysitters. They can't even look at me without pitying me for—" she stopped, a frown forming on her face. 

He squinted, his eye flicking over her face, then staring her down. "Is that the only reason you want to go into a fight you know you can't win?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. He always saw through her bullshit, and he'd hit the nail on the head. If she was being honest? She felt hollow. There was no light for her at the end of the tunnel, no reason to keep pushing and pushing and struggling until she gave out. Eva told her once that time healed all wounds. But she’d lost so many friends...

And how many more would she lose, fighting an endless battle in service to the Traveler? She didn’t choose to be reborn. She couldn’t help but feel a little bitter, and why not? She’d killed a dozen unkillable gods and unthinkable monsters in service to the Vanguard, and how had they repaid her? 

By pointing her to the Reef, and telling her to shoot. They didn’t even have the honor to do it outright; she went in alone, without help, or Cayde’s death went unanswered. 

It had been an easy choice to make.

Cayde had taught her that being a Guardian wasn’t about killing, ironically enough. He checked on her, called her out for being reckless with herself, and made sure at the end of the day she was in the right headspace to keep fighting the good fight. She didn’t even know him well, but it didn’t matter to Cayde. All Guardians were his people. Especially attractive Hunters with a few gods under their belt (his words, not hers).

Without him... without him she was just another weapon in the Vanguard’s arsenal. It was simpler that way. Just be their hand, stretching over the galaxy to keep humanity’s enemies at bay. Weapons don't mourn the death of their Hunter Vanguard. Weapons are pointed in a direction and destroy whatever's in their path. 

She finally spoke after a minute that felt more like an hour. “If this is my end, then I’ll make them work for it.” 

She busied herself checking her weapons, her ammo stores, and her grenades. All was in order; she hadn't used anything on her way down to wherever they were, seeing as she hadn't run into anything with teeth or claws. Her Ghost was unusually quiet beside her.

When she finished taking inventory, he finally spoke. There was a weariness to his voice that made her gut clench with guilt, but she pushed it aside. "I've been running the sterile neutrino count against recorded engagements. At a guess, there are about forty Taken ahead of us. It could be more."

The Guardian smirked, but it was halfhearted and they both knew it. "Just forty, huh? Sounds like a vacation." She raised a finger to brush over his eye, her expression softening. "Thank you, Sirius." _For worrying. For caring. For being with me through everything._

He nuzzled her hand. "Any time, Leta."

She backed up to shake her arms out and take a few steadying breaths. _No use going into a suicide mission without stretching first, right? _

Right. 

One more moment's hesitation — quickly smushed — and she was off. A few paces of a running jump, then the ground disappeared beneath her feet. Three even hops got her across the divide without a problem. She landed, and waited. 

After a minute of tense silence, she rose to her feet with a frown. "Shouldn't this be a trap or something? This part is always a trap."

Her Ghost shrugged, or at least the mental equivalent of one. She huffed, but readied Ace and padded through the dark doorway before her. 

It led to yet another hallway, which had a few doors on each side leading off into the gloom. But the voices, which had doubled in intensity when she jumped across the chasm, called her deeper into the passageway. There was a... a presence that tugged at her Light now, and even if her curiosity wasn't driving her onward, she wasn't sure she could turn back.

She walked through one last doorway, which opened up to a ledge overlooking a vast room. Pillars extended up to the star-studded ceiling, more crumbling than not. There wasn't a door at the other end, and the left and right sides dropped off above a dark abyss below. It was wide, open, and perfect for trapping a lone Hunter and her Ghost. 

_”You have endured enough. Why swim against the current? I will take you into my mother-arms and erase your pain."_

She tried her best not to let the creepy proposition spook her, to shake it off. It wasn't easy. _Focus_, her Ghost reminded her. From her perch, she watched the Taken — about forty or so, just as Sirius guessed — mill around the room. They growled and rasped, flickering like shadows cast by candlelight. She almost felt a twinge of pity for them. Almost. 

Taken vandals and hobgoblins lined the walls, Hive thralls and Taken psions skulked around, knights of both states and Taken centurions growled at each other, and three Hive wizards in the back were... chanting? Around a crystal? Yep, that was definitely Hive ritual-chanting-with-a-crystal. Oh, there was also big, angry, Taken ogre in the back. Can't forget about that one.

One last time she checked her weapons while also measuring the room for a rough plan. Maybe a Titan would charge in and break some limbs, a Warlock might calculate for every circumstance until they were never caught by surprise — but a Hunter? A Hunter would know what they're getting into, and dive headfirst anyway. It's all about measured dumbassery, and a good deal of luck. Being light on your feet, rolling with the punches; pick and idiom and run with it. 

Point is, she was done waiting around for the disembodied voice to decide to kill her. She grounded herself by wrapping each finger about Ace's grip with care, then jumped over the ledge. She landed, tucked into a roll, and got to her feet.

She looked up in the to see forty sets of eyes snap to her. _...Oh shit. _

Then the fighting started. 

The nearest pack of thralls rushed her, shrieking, clawing. She shot one in the head, two, three, and the group dissolved in solar explosions. Another headshot on a psion before it could split. She slid behind cover to reload, her hands more steady than they'd ever be in the City.

She leapt from behind the pillar, a barrage of bullets readied at the closest knight. He went down, but not before one of his bombs sent her flying. She scrambled to her feet before another wave of thralls fell upon her, throwing down a grenade and sprinting away. The wailing behind her spelled their death.

She shot as she ran, cutting down a vandal and two more psions. She was in the middle of reloading when something slammed into her side, shrieking. She grunted and rolled on the floor, grappling with the thrall that tackled her. 

It's claws raked down her stomach, sending dark blue blood squirting over its carapace. She grunted in pain and surprise, using one forearm to keep its fangs from her neck and the other to grab her knife. It got a few more scratches in before the blade finally sank into its head, and its screams fell silent. 

She pushed it off of her with a grunt, wincing at the warm blood dripping from her stomach and forearm — it had demolished her bracer there and left the flesh mangled. The pain made her woozy when she stood. She wiped off her blade with a satisfied smirk anyway.

Her Ghost healed her without a word, and just in time. She dove to the side to doge a knight's downward swing, reloading as she got up. It struggled to free the sword from the crystalline floor, which made it an easy kill with her blade. She drove it into one of the knight's eyes, snarling, twisting the blade until the creature fell slack, then turned to ash. 

_”You have lost so much. Your grief has stained your soul, can you feel it? I can help you. I can bring him back."_

Something like faint, weary hope bloomed in her chest. She stomped it out with a pang in her chest, knowing damn well that it was likely all lies. She took out two vandals with slightly-less-perfect headshots than before, then swapped to her bow and downed another knight across the room. Anger made her a little too quick to shoot — who the fuck did this entity think they were? 

With her arsenic bite, she killed four more thralls in quick succession. The wizards were ignoring her for now, still chanting. She needed to put an end to that sooner than later, huh? She caught her breath behind cover, her nose burning with the overwhelming stench of Hive decay and Taken corruption. 

_”You find yourself to blame for his death. Tell me, did vengeance soothe your sorrow?"_

She gripped her gun a little too tight, her face hot with anger. Another few gulps of air, then back into the fray. _Ignore it, ignore it._

A psion, then the one that split from it. Her arrows found their marks with deadly precision, and once she settled into her archer's rhythm, she decimated the remaining numbers of Taken. Five centurions lined up, thinking they'd push her toward the ogre. She triple-jumped over their heads, threw down her arcbolt grenade, and dodged the ogre blast with quick footwork. _Only about half left now._

_"How clever, little light-bearer! You are most formidable. What we could do together..." the voice crowed, filling her head._

The floor rumbled under her feet, so faint that she wondered if she was just imagining it. A glance to the witches confirmed her worry: the crystal they circled was beginning to glow. That was never good.

She took out the last vandal, then two hobgoblins in quick succession. Almost out of arrows. She ducked behind a column to dodge those missile-orbs they shot after they died, but one still slammed into her shoulder and sent a bolt of pain down her spine. Rage threatened to swell in her chest, dark and relentless. With a growl she sidestepped the thrall charging her, slammed its head into the pillar to hold it still, and sliced its throat. 

_”War becomes you, little light. It is... thrilling, to watch you battle."_

It was getting difficult to keep a lid on her emotions, what with the disembodied voice clearly bringing up her trauma to get a reaction out of her. The ground was shaking more now — no time to wait. She used her last five arrows to snipe the remaining hobgoblins, then switched back to Ace. 

_ “Ah, I see. You were too late to save him. Was he the first?"_

She froze, her mind fogging with memory. Rasping breaths, golden eyes burning into her, laughing at her — the Cabal, standing over their body, blood pooling at her feet, a shout to _run _— 

She charged two of the last four knights and a centurion, very nearly getting melted by the ogre blast. It chased her heels as she raised Ace and fired three shots at the first knight’s head. She slid between its legs and shot it in the face one last time. She was on her feet before the others could turn and demolished the centurion with two shots and a knife in the back. 

The other knight swung at her, but she ducked easily. A shot to the head and the side between dodges of its sword, then she stabbed at a gap in the chitin armor over its thigh and ripped its leg open with a twinge of satisfaction. It disintegrated, it’s pained howl echoing through the room.

_”Do you not mourn him with every breath? I can help you fix that. I can help you save him.”_

Her hands shook as she sheathed her knife. Deep breaths did nothing to calm her pounding heart — rage and guilt seeped in her blood like molten metal, about to cool and drag her under. She grit her teeth and moved behind a pillar, willing her body to calm down. (It didn’t.) That voice had stirred memories of loss she'd been burying for months, for years. Her chest was too tight, like her lungs were made of rock. She found her hands tangled in her hair again, pulling, trying to get in control. Her carefully constructed walls between herself and overwhelming grief were crumbling down, and it _terrified her_—

A crack in the floor opened between her feet.

The chamber groaned as dust rained from the ceilings and pieces of floor crumbled off the sides. The ritual was going to bring it down on their heads. She smothered her turmoil, or at least tried to, to focus on the matter at hand. (It didn't work.) 

It was with a tremble that she raised her hand up, searching within for the Light. She found her connection to the Traveler, grasped it, and tugged until it opened like floodgates. Lightning coiled around her shoulders, her arms, and coalesced into an arc staff, already twirling. With her teeth bared in a grin, she unleashed the excess Light as a shockwave. 

Anger twisted heavy in her gut, a fitting companion to the grief she hadn't been able to escape since the Prison of Elders. It fueled her Light, sent waves of arc energy out along the ground when she walked out from behind the pillar. Her face, hard with fury and resolve, must've been a sight to behold. 

She advanced on the knights, her arc staff held close behind her. They couldn't even react before she cut them down in a flurry of twirls and slices. Lightning sizzled around her, flicking at her eyes as she turned to the witches. 

The ogre had other plans.

It sent a blast of energy at her, which she dodged with a sideways flip. She slid under another shot, moving at its flank. Another dodge, a little closer. _Now! _Her attacks focused its legs, a barrage of graceful blows with her staff and Light that sent it on the defensive. It lashed out with a frustrated roar, catching her leg. She went flying, nearly falling off the edge of the floor and into whatever was below. 

She hauled herself back up just in time to dodge another blast. Its feet thudded against the floor as it charged her, swinging wildly. She managed a few blows before she had to back off to avoid the destruction it was causing, tearing through columns and sending debris flying. It turned to blast at her again, but she had already jumped in the air, and with a roar like thunder, brought her staff down into its eye. The Light vaporized it to nothing but a memory and an echoing shriek.

She rose to her feet and trained her vision on the witches. The ground shook dangerously under her, but she paid no attention. She stalked toward the Hive, every ragged breath sending lashes of arc energy into the air. She could taste the ozone now, could feel the static skate across her skin. A pillar crashed to the ground. Then another.

The Hunter hefted her arc staff and sprinted to close the distance, a grin curling her lips. She struck the first witch with all the force of a lightning bolt, popping its shields before it saw her coming. She danced out of the way of its magic, flipped around to its flank, and slammed her staff into its side with a burst of arc energy. Its screams were short-lived.

The next one was ready for her, but it didn't matter. She evaded almost every attack like it was a game, flipping and rolling until it let out a frustrated screech. She smirked. Once she was close enough she drove her staff through the witch's shield and into its stomach, pouring electricity into the staff for good measure. It wailed, grasping at her vainly even as it faded to nothingness. She turned on the last witch, her chest heaving and her eyes wild. 

It was still chanting, its hands extended up toward the heavens. She darted for it, waiting for the attacks to come. They didn't. She paused for just a heartbeat, trying to figure out the trap, and in that brief instant, the witch's voice rose in cadence and volume. 

It chanted one last line, and the crystal flared toward the ceiling as if it held a wildfire. There was a low groan, like the earth was struggling to stay intact. The Guardian's eyes widened, snapped to the crystal, then to the witch. _Shit. _She leapt forward, cutting it down before it could do any more damage. It barely gave up a fight — managed to blast her in the side once or twice before she put an end to it.

And then there was silence.

The arc energy fell from her like water and fizzled out when it hit the ground. She let her staff go back to the Light, her chest heaving and her hands trembling. She was exhausted in more ways than one; her anger had burned her out hollow, leaving grief and guilt to gnaw at her. 

But she had bigger problems (when didn’t she?). Fissures crept along the crystal floor, spreading out from the ritual crystal-thing. Another appeared. Then two more, branching like the lightning she wielded. The place was about to fall into the abyss.

_"What a fine champion you are, little light. You wear death like a mantle." _the voice crooned. 

Her fingers twitched as she bit the inside of her cheek, hard. Her distress must’ve been palpable, because her Ghost sent her a wave of reassurance though their link._ Ignore the voice for now, you don't have time! _Sirius guided her attention to the ledge she entered at. That was her only escape, it seemed. 

Her feet pounded against the crystal as she sprinted for the exit. More cracks appeared beneath her boots, but she couldn't spare them a glance. Her heart thudded in her ears._ Just a little closer..!_

She clambered up a half-fallen pillar, eyeing the distance between herself and the ledge. Not great odds, but she might be able to make it. She grounded herself against the smoothed crystal as much as she could, then leapt. One jump, two, three! 

The Guardian reached out as far as she could... and missed the ledge. Her chest hit the wall below it a moment later, driving the air from her lungs. She grunted, trying to catch any sort of hand-hold as the walls shook violently. Below her, the bridge-room finally gave out and tumbled into the abyss in chunks. She scrabbled at the wall, finally managing to halt her descent as she drove her knife into a crack in the crystal. 

She panted, glancing back up to the ledge. It was... a ways up there. At least the voice was being quiet — it’s the small things, y’know?

The cavernous room still trembled, though. Her knife was planted firmly, but she wasn't sure how long it would hold her weight. She strained her free arm upward, feeling for any sort of grip. Nothing. The blade shifted, sending her stomach to her feet. She froze, trying not to upset the knife. That would be really, really bad. 

Not as bad as a Taken portal opening up under her, though. 

She saw the light of it, heard the low hum and knew what it was before looking. So that's what the crystal was for. 

The portal was enormous, as wide and long as the floor had been, but it must've been a mile down. It called to her, just like the whispers and the voice had. It pulled at her Light like a vortex, urging her closer. She grit her teeth and turned her attention back to climbing, but the knife slipped just a fraction again. She was running out of options: either jump into the portal, fall into the abyss at the edge of the portal, or hang there until help arrived, which seemed unlikely for a few reasons. 

_“I cannot wait to meet you, little light.”_

The knife slid further. Her eyes widened, watching helplessly as the crystal around it began to crumble. 

Then it slipped.

She managed to kick away from the wall a bit, but after that she was free-falling into the dark. She glanced around for anything to catch onto as the wind whipped her scarf around her face. She, busy looking out into the distance for something to land on, didn't see the chunk of floor beneath her. 

She glanced off it, her vision going spotty and her limbs going slack. The last thing she saw was the starry ceiling far above before her vision faded to black, and she fell.

Down...

Down....

Down.


	2. Chapter Pending!

Chapter is under revision, sorry for the inconvenience! :3


End file.
